


Ghosts of Dunholm

by EspressoandJustice



Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Past Physical Abuse, Missing Scene, PTSD, Shared Trauma, mention of past sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EspressoandJustice/pseuds/EspressoandJustice
Summary: Missing scene from 3x3. When Thyra and Beocca return to Dunholm, the memories prove to be too much for Thyra after all. She runs into Sihtric and the two of them come to terms with what they have both endured during their time with Kjartan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Ghosts of Dunholm

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This does touch on some sensitive subjects such as Thyra's captivity and sexual abuse, as well as mistreatment of Sihtric when he was younger. 
> 
> I wish the show would've touched on this relationship a little more since they were both basically slaves to Kjartan.

She’s not sure when it started, the suffocating feeling of panic that is all too familiar. All around her is happiness, including her happiness such as Beocca and Ragnar; but it still finds her. The walls suddenly seem to close in on her and she rises to leave, shooting an unconvincing smile of reassurance to her beloved. Despite the hoards of people in the main hall drinking and telling stories, Beocca is by her side before she even makes it ten feet.

“Thyra, are you alright? I feared this would happen, it’s too much.” He says worriedly. He slips his warm hand into hers and it grounds her instantly. She smiles at him – he had anticipated this. Her sweet Beocca, so aware of everything she feels.

“Beocca, my love. I just need some air. I will be fine, I assure you. Just give me this time?” Thyra soothes. It’s true, she just needs some cool air and to be outside of these walls. These walls of Dunholm - her hell. One of a million reasons she loves this priest, her priest, was the way he understood her so well. With a chaste kiss to her temple, he releases her hand and lets her leave the castle.

The minute she steps into the darkness outside, she inhales the frigid winter air as if it were her first taste of oxygen after being underwater. Even without furs, she cannot feel just how cold it is, all she can focus on is the way the world steadies around her as her lungs fill. She lives an entirely different life now, but nothing will erase the way the air within Dunholm feels stale and tastes poisonous.

Several minutes tick by before she realizes, with surprise that it took her this long, that she is not alone outside. The great gates are open halfway, and a figure stands there with his back to her. An enemy would not be standing still and taking in the sights, so Thyra approaches the man without fear. She purposefully steps loudly on a few leaves and twigs as she draws near - she does not want to frighten the stranger and end up with a dagger through her stomach this evening.

The first thing Thyra notices is the tattoo that slips down his neck and she knows instantly it is Uhtred’s man, Sihtric. Honestly, she has hardly shared ten words with the young warrior in all their time of knowing each other. However, there’s silent understanding between them. These Dunholm walls ooze ghosts directed towards them both. Kjartan’s captive whore and Kjartan’s bastard. Long dead, he haunts both of their nightmares.

Sihtric glances at her as she stands beside him and his features are striking in the moonlight. His cheekbones and jaw are sharp, yet his demeanor had always been kind. He’s the quietest and youngest of Uhtred’s men, but this does not translate to any less trauma endured than Uhtred or even Finan. Thyra’s not sure if Uhtred’s men are merely smart enough to be silent about Sihtric and Thyra having lived in Dunholm with Kjartan at the same time, or if they truly have not put the puzzle pieces together.

“I suspect you are out here for the same reason that I am.” Sihtric says quietly, breaking the silence first. It’s a statement of self-awareness as he acknowledges that the Dunholm walls are too much for him tonight as well. He is not wearing any kind of fur covering either and she’s assuming the overwhelming emotions are numbing him to the cold just like her. Thyra waits a beat and then makes eye contact with him, and it is at that moment she thinks this is the exact reason they haven’t exactly befriended each other yet. Because as she stares at Sihtric Kjartanson, memories crash into her with no mercy. She remembers and knows he does too.

 _Kjartan’s footsteps had been heavy as he had descended the stairs to Thyra’s cage, a young man following with no choice as he was tugged down by tied hands. Quite a show had followed right in front of a confused Thyra as Kjartan demanded the boy prove himself a man and take his turn with her. He had refused and Thyra was sure she had never seen Kjartan that angry before. Heated moments followed and the young man was dragged upstairs by his hair with no further incident involving Thyra, something she was at least thankful for._ _More than a month later she saw him again when she was shackled as a plaything in the great hall for all to see. The young man was decidedly more submissive than she last saw him, sporting an array of bruises and a rope tied around his neck this time, the other end held by Kjartan at the dinner table. All the fierceness she had seen him yell with against Kjartan was gone as the boy kept his eyes downcast for the whole night. Those days, Thyra did not have much feeling at all, but pity sat heavily in her stomach that night. He had been broken just as she had. From that day forward, the sights and sounds of mistreatment of Kjartan’s bastard were made known to her. Secretly, she had been somewhat grateful knowing that she was not the only one suffering._

Thyra spoke up, his name burning her tongue like acid, “Kjartan lives within these walls, seeping out like an eternal poison.” she stated plainly, never having been one to hold back.

Something like guilt crossed Sihtric’s features and he turned to look at the fields again. “I did not suffer as you suffered.” He said, jaw clenching. Violated, humiliated, degraded, there were so many words to use when describing what Thyra had lived through. Yet, as her heart softened and she was slowly brought to life again with love from Beocca and his Christian God, Thyra began to despise the way people around her compared their suffering as if one trauma were worse than another.

Thyra turned her body towards Sihtric more so he was forced to look at her. She had always been stunning herself, her features equally sharp and beautiful in a haunting way. “No, Sihtric, you did not live through what I did.” She said in agreement and Sihtric nodded, swallowing thickly. “But you were whipped in the square for your disobedience and I was not.” She stated plainly. Tact wasn’t her specialty. Even in the colorless winter night, Sihtric paled, not wishing to relive that memory.

“Kjartan the Cruel, was just that…cruel. We both suffered you and I, in mind and body. In different ways, yes, but no more or less. Yet I heal each more by the day, through the love of my husband.” Thyra said, a feeling of pride washing over her as she admitted this out loud.  
Whether it was his wife or Uhtred and his friends, Sihtric had healed the same way through the people in his life. He had morphed from a submissive slave giving an oath to Uhtred to a strong and confident warrior who smiled more by the day.

A small smile danced on Sihtric’s lips then, proving her point, and he took her hand between his calloused ones, “You are right, Thyra. Kjartan may live in these walls but we live on, growing stronger”. Thyra smiled at him and felt a weight lift off her chest, one that she hadn’t truly felt was still there until now.

“You and I may have ghosts and nightmares that look the same, Sihtric, but we also share the same family. Kjartan has no more power over us when we are in Dunholm, we must remember that.” She reassured. The same strong words she spoke to soothe Sihtric were the same ones she had been trying to tell herself; yet, as she stood with the young warrior in the cold air at this very moment, peace finally washed over her fully and the world no longer seemed to be trying to suffocate her in this very castle.

Silent understanding passed between Sihtric and Thyra and she finally reached out to pull him into a sisterly hug, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Sihtric embraced her warmly in return, “Thank you, Thyra,” he breathed against her neck. Her slender arms squeezed him a bit tighter for half a moment and she smiled over his shoulder, “And I thank you.” She replied.

“Now,” Thyra said as they began to walk back into Dunholm, “I believe we have family waiting for us inside the hall".


End file.
